Birds of a Feather: A Novelization of DMC4
by Rabid Chimera
Summary: Suspicious happenings and the assassination of the leader of The Order of the Sword entangle the young knight, Nero, and the mysterious assassin into a mess of unanswered questions. Who is this Man in Red, and what does he know?
1. Prelude: Lady's Request

**A/N: **Hey, everyone! How are you? I hope you've all been doing great. It's been a while since I last updated, hasn't it? Sorry for that; I've been a really busy person lately. I guess I've told you all about the writing contest, right? Well, it's been occupying my free time for a few months now, but I've finally whipped up a couple of one-shots to submit. I'm a bit disappointed this year because I didn't really write anything I think of as impressive. I had some great ideas, but I couldn't figure out how to make the entirety of them fit into a 12,000 word limit, and I didn't see how an excerpt could be a very strong piece. However, I've become so exasperated with this contest that I'll actually be glad to just get it over with. I can't tell you how hard it was to keep myself from writing fanfiction. I've actually started writing some original pieces that I really like, but I had to work hard to keep myself focused and not cranking out lemons or something like that. xD

Anyway, this is something I've wanted to write for a long time now. As the title states, it is a novelization of the DMC4 game. I've put off writing it for a long time now because I knew it would be a big project that would get in the way of my other stories. However, after weighing the benefits of writing this before my other stories, I've decided the order is probably better this way. That doesn't mean I won't update my other stories, but expect them not to be updated for a while. Through writing this I hope to improve my own understanding of the DMC universe and important aspects of writing fanfiction, such as my characterization, especially of Dante and Nero.

Of course, I also hope that you all enjoy it. I'm going to work really hard on this piece and try to write it in a way that fans who haven't played the game before can experience it vividly without actually having to play it. Not that you shouldn't play it if you haven't, but not everyone has the option of doing so.

Also, this may have a few bits and pieces from the novel thrown in, mainly concepts, but since they go hand-in-hand, that shouldn't be a big issue, should it? On that note, I haven't actually read the novel myself because I'm fairly sure they didn't produce an English version, and I haven't been able to find a scanlated copy on the internet. The only information I have from the novel is from a summary that outlines the main points of the novel. However, that doesn't mean that everything will be correct, so if you see information that you know is wrong, tell me. The advantage of FFN is that you can go back and edit anything whenever you want.

I know reviewing is hard for some of you, whether you simply don't have the time or you're just very shy, but please try to review as often as possible and tell me what you like about this piece. Also, don't hesitate to point out things you think I could have done better. My main goal in writing this is to improve, and as long as you don't tear me a new one, I don't mind hearing criticism. If this piece is successful enough, I may write novelizations of all the other games, too. :) Sorry for the long notes.

**Warnings: **Violence, Blood/Gore, Language, Sexual Themes

**Un-beta'd: **Once again, do not be afraid to point out my mistakes. I won't get mad at you.

**To be updated?:** _Yes_—if you really needed to know the answer to this question, you need to pay more attention.

**Disclaimers: **Everything seen in the game belongs to Capcom.

**Dedicated to **all my readers and the fans of DMC. :)

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><p>Dante reclined behind his desk, leather-clad legs crossed and thrown onto the wooden surface. The harsh fluorescent light buzzing above his head cast a silvery sheen across the white of his unkempt locks. The sound of thunder could be faintly heard rumbling through the darkened streets of Capulet City, though the music blaring from the devil hunter's beaten and neglected jukebox far overshadowed Mother Nature.<p>

It was a typically gloomy night in the city, and as usual, Dante was savoring the final slice of his supreme pizza despite that Pizza One again denied his request to leave the olives off. He stared blankly at the small photo of his mother that sat on the left end of his desk. She smiled warmly back at him as if to say she was proud of the man he had become, but it was just a memory frozen in time. There was no meaning behind that smile—not for him, anyway.

Chomping a rather large bite from his pizza, Dante let a quiet sigh exit his nostrils and glanced at Trish from the corner of a bright blue eye. She sat at the opposite end of his desk as if it were some sort of scale with which to compare and contrast the she-devil from his dearly departed mother. She was a gorgeous, voluptuous specimen of a woman, with long legs and what the devil hunter deemed as a great set of jugs. Any man would kill to have her, but not him. No matter how scantily clad or violent, Dante couldn't look upon that face and see anything other than what he had lost.

After a few moments of Dante's staring, Trish's silvery eyes rolled over to meet his own. There was nothing in her eyes but mild curiosity. They shared a silent moment of wordless staring before both devils returned to staring off into space. One would think they would be making at least an attempt at conversation, but the two hunters were content to simply sit in each other's presence. Trish had been staying with Dante for a week now after returning from a long job a few cities over. They did their fair share of talking, but both cherished solitude and certainly didn't let one another being there get in the way of it.

One person who always got in the way of it, however, was Lady. She came bursting through the doors of Devil May Cry, out of the stormy night. Like a petty demon springing from the darkness, Dante wasn't particularly wanting of her presence. Whereas they were once quite close, the past few years had split them apart. Lady grew more and more emotionally detached over the years to the point that Dante didn't feel he knew her anymore, if he even had in the first place. She had become little more than a drain on his personal funds, and the epidemic had even carried over to Trish. [1] Dante sensed that the blond she-devil didn't particularly like the brunette anymore as she got an irritable tension about her when Lady entered the room. Dante wasn't sure how he felt about her anymore; he wanted to like her, but her attitude and behavior as of late made that easier said than done.

Lady carried herself as if she owned the place, strutting right up to Dante's desk. She clearly meant business and nothing more by her sudden visit, which was nothing surprising to Dante. She had stopped coming by just for a friendly chat a long time ago. The briefcase she toted in one hand reinforced his suspicions. There was an irrefutable chance that the briefcase was full of wads of cash, and Lady only ever brought that much money by when she wanted a big job done. Not to pay Dante, of course, because she always subtracted so much in the end for how much she had to "help" that he ended up with enough to pay his monthly bills and not much else.

Sometimes he didn't even come out with enough bills to wipe his ass, but he never saw Lady feeling guilty at all for how much she made him go through for such meager pay. When he was younger, it was just one of those things that made Lady herself that he thought of with a humored smirk. That was before she decided numerous times throughout the years that she wasn't taking enough from him. Now, he could look upon her behavior with nothing short of bitter contempt.

"Ah, Lady," the hunter hummed in that gravelly voice of his, "what brings you to my humble abode at such an hour?" The intonation of his words very much so made them mocking, but Lady's maturity had brought with it a lengthening of her formerly short temper, be it a tenuous one.

"I have a job for you," she replied calmly, placing her hands on his desk and leaning forward. Dante wasn't sure if it was his age—he hoped not—or his simple annoyance with her that made him react to the prospect of slaying demons with a tired sigh.

"What is it _this _time?" he asked, letting his slight irritation bleed into his words.

"I've had a bit of a problem on my hands with a religious cult—The Order of the Sword."

"'The Order of the Sword', huh?" Dante parroted back at her.

"Yes. Are you familiar with them?" Lady asked with a hint of excited surprise in her voice. Her excitement was in vain because Dante didn't care to be familiar with the sorts of things that seemed to interest her.

"Sorry, religion and I don't mix."

"It's a small congregation that gathers in the castle town of Fortuna," she said in the informative tone that Dante remembered his teachers using in high school. "I guess the only people who would have heard of it are the ones who take interest in this type of thing," she added as if it was some sort of boast.

"Like you," Dante replied in disinterest.

"Yeah," Lady answered. Dante wasn't watching her, but he could imagine her eyes giving a roll of annoyance. "So just how much do you know about Sparda?"

"Well, from what I can figure, there's a lot of, uh, _confusion _surrounding him." Dante turned his eyes to the woman as she turned and paced away from the desk, speaking as she went.

"The story goes that Sparda served as the feudal lord of the city long ago. The people who live there today take these legends as truth and worship him..." Lady turned back around before adding, dramatically, "Just like a god."

Dante promptly pulled his legs off of his desk, leaning forward on his left elbow with his half eaten, nearly forgotten slice of pizza still in hand. "They worship a _demon _as a god?" he asked with a hint of surprised curiosity lacing his words. The man would be lying if he said she hadn't piqued his interest even in the slightest.

"Peaceful worship can't be condemned," Lady said wisely, a statement with which Dante could agree. "But the real problem is The Order. Lately, they've been running amok, catching demons, and have even butted in on some of _my _jobs." [2]

"_Ah_, maybe they're starting a zoo!" Dante mocked, pointing at Lady with his now cold slice of pizza. She sneered at the smirk twitching on his lips and snatched the pizza from his hand. He had obviously managed to ruffle her feathers, if only a little.

"Not just demons," Lady said with an upward intonation. "They've also been targeting Devil Arms, like the ones _you _have." There was sassiness to her voice that clearly indicated her irritation.

Feeling a bit sadistic, Dante replied, "Okay then, a _museum_." He could almost visibly see her temper coming to a boil. The brunette's lips pursed into a tight line as she worked to restrain her anger. To add insult to injury, Dante reached for the slice of pizza she had stolen as if it was far more interesting than anything she could say. She jerked it out of his reach before he could even get close to it. With a sigh of exasperation, the hunter beat his fist on the desk before throwing his legs back onto the hard surface.

"So what?" he spat in annoyance.

"Well, what if their intentions are fowl and there's a diabolical plan behind these apparently _random _acts?" Lady retorted as if incredulous that the halfbreed could simply write such suspicious behavior off as harmless. Even after that statement, Dante couldn't force himself to share Lady's concerns. He did notice at the last minute, however, that Trish was no longer sitting within his sight. While they were bickering like a married couple, the blond had disappeared. Seeing as her scent still lingered in the room, however, she was obviously about somewhere, up to no good. Dante stood from his seat, about to go looking for her.

"Well," he started as he pulled his legs from his desk, "then I'd have something to keep me occupied and—_Trish_!" Just as the hunter stood to his full height, he caught a flash of black and the swing of long golden hair disappearing through the office doors. He tried to call Trish to a stop, but the she-devil seemed eager to vacate the premises. Thinking he had noticed something in her arms, a voice in Dante's head told him to turn around. What he found was that the mighty sword, Sparda, had been stolen from his wall, along with three other Devil Arms he hadn't used since he obtained them. What Trish planned to do with them, the man was unsure of, but he knew it had something to do with Lady's proposition. On the frame where Sparda had been mounted were the words "See you there" written in what Dante presumed to be pink lipstick. [3]

"Of course," Dante sighed to himself. Leave it to Trish to care what happened to a bunch of religious nutjobs.

"I guess you'll be going after all," Lady said triumphantly, though the victory wasn't her own. Dante turned to see her giving him a proud look, arms crossed over her ample chest. He headed toward the door without giving her the satisfaction of seeing his soreness over having to accept her job.

"I guess so," replied the hunter coldly, pushing the doors wide open with a flick of his wrists.

"Wait," Lady demanded behind him. Dante paused but seldom turned around. He was growing impatient but hid it, for there was suddenly a gentler tone in Lady's voice as if she was regretting the way she had acted. "How do you plan on getting there?"

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><p><strong>AN: **Okay, I vowed a while back not to include two sets of author's notes on anything anymore because I know they're nothing exciting to read, but I want to make sure I cover everything here. Before anyone starts accusing me of Lady-bashing, I'm not. This is just how I think Dante and Lady's relationship would be at the time this scene happened. You're welcome to your own opinion, but any empty spaces left by the game are subject to be filled in with a few of my own beliefs.

Also, for those of you who have never played the game, this is not the particular scene with which the game begins because it is very mixed up. If it was in order, however, this is where it would have begun. I will be following a timeline closer to the game, but to avoid repeating things, I've decided to start it with this part. I promise it will make more sense as I go on.

The dialogue is a mixture of actual dialogue taken from the cutscenes in the game and dialogue I created to fill in empty spaces. There will be endnotes (like the ones below) at the end of every chapter to answer any questions you may have about particular concepts within this story. If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask. I would hate for anyone to be confused. On a related note, this story _will not_contain any YAOI content. I know that "Sexual Themes" in the Warnings may have been misleading, but all warnings are taken from the actual ESRB ratings of the game.

**[1]** The novel says that Lady deducts money from Dante and Trish's pay when she gives them a job for all the things she had to contribute. Her excuse is that, because she's human, she can't take on as many jobs as Dante and Trish, so she needs the money more than they do.

**[2]** In the novel, Lady encounters possessed suits of armor (Bianco Angelos) on a job to exterminate a demon. The Angelos keep intruding on her jobs and stealing her prey, which is why she says that The Order have been "butting in" on her jobs and capturing demons. She finds it suspicious that demons would be capturing other demons (she knows the Angelos are demons because she fought one), which is how the story begins. She got her information about Fortuna and The Order from a collector of demonic artifacts, and hires Dante to investigate the whole situation. This will make more sense later on.

**[3]** If you watch this cutscene, it's very confusing at first. What actually happens in the cutscene is Trish steals Sparda and three other Devil Arms from Dante. You will find that those three Devil Arms were the ones that Dante obtained in Fortuna: Gilgamesh, Pandora, and Lucifer. More on that later.

(If you are still confused by something, I highly recommend watching the actual cutscene from which this chapter came. All DMC4 cutscenes can be found on Youtube.)


	2. Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather

**A/N:**Writing this makes me very excited. I don't know why, but I just really enjoy it. Maybe it's because it follows the plot of the game, so it requires little planning. I can just go with the flow, write, and just worry about detailing. I also don't get bored of it easily. I guess the game really does have replay value. Perhaps, this novelization is just the conquering of another mode in the game. Speaking of which, I still need to beat Son of Sparda mode. lol

Anyway, this is crazy long! But that's not a bad thing... right? ^^; I hope you all enjoy it. If you look closely enough, you can see that my writing style has improved ever so slightly. However, I've kind of written like that before, so maybe I just have really good muse going. Whatever. Halfway through this I got kind of lazy because I was getting tired of writing the same thing over and over again. I think the writing quality decreases there, but that could just be me. If you all are happy with it, I will be, too, but it just seems really subpar for me right now. The song Sons of Plunder by Disturbed really motivated me to finish it, though. It's such an upbeat song! :D

Unfortunately, I didn't have any time to edit this completely, and I doubt I will for awhile. So I'm kind of depending on you guys to point out my mistakes. Please make the effort to do this for me. I can't make any promises, but I know this won't happen often. You don't have to point out every little misplaced punctuation mark or anything, but please do point out any major mistakes. If something just kind of jumps off the page at you and screams "error", it's most likely wrong, so don't be afraid to let me know.

On a side note (I promise this is it), I replied to some anonymous reviews down below. If you're like me, you can't resist reading unnecessary things like shampoo bottles and nutritional information. However, I would advise you take care not to read the reply directed toward a reviewer named Jasper (unless you are Jasper) because it contains spoilers. If you haven't played the game, it would be much more enjoyable to you to have the spoilers in that review revealed to you in the story as they should be. And even if you have played the game, maybe those spoilers are things you didn't know before reading this story. Either way, read at your own risk because you very well could be spoiling exciting surprises for yourself.

**Warnings:**Violence, Blood/Gore, Language, Sexual Themes

**Un-beta'd:**Point out any spelling/grammatical mistakes that you find.

**Dedicated to**my professor. Today, he said, "There's nothing quite like watching another human being get nailed in the face by a baseball. You just see them lift their glove, and it's like a foot away from the ball, and it just hits them right in the face... It's very humbling." That's not an exact quote, but that's basically what he said, and I laughed so hard. Also, thanks to the reviewers who have read and given me support, new and veteran. To my veteran readers, I miss you guys! I hope you all like this story as much as you liked my others. You may not even read this one, but if you do, I'd love to hear from you!

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><p><strong>Jasper:<strong>Firstly, I don't appreciate you using the reviews section of my story to try and argue with another reader and myself. That's just immature and rude. As a courtesy to the patrons of FFN, you should create an account and leave all arguments to PMs. I deleted your second review because it is unnecessary. The only contents of it were an attempt to argue with Mikka89mak. I deleted the third one you sent because it's quite obvious you're trying to pick a fight with me, which I find laughable. I also don't enjoy having emails sent to my inbox making me think I have a legitimate review when it is actually someone attempting to communicate through my reviews section. Reviews are not the same things as comments.

That being said, it is wise to do your research before spouting your information off as the truth. I mean no offense to you, but your information is incorrect. Whether or not the novels are canonical is a question that DMC fans have asked numerous times, but it is scarcely debatable that the corresponding novel to DMC4 is not, in fact, canon. Capcom hired the scenario writer of the DMC4 game to write the novel, presumably to fill in the plotholes. Without the novel, you will find that there are many unanswered questions in the game. Because the game correlates perfectly with the novel, it is easy to imagine that they were planning to write the novel before they ever started making the game or that they found the intended explanations in the game too vague and wrote the novel to clarify the initial scenario, not change it. Otherwise, how could they have just left so many obvious questions unanswered in the game in the first place? That would make little sense.

So if the information in the novel is so wrong, explain a few things to me. If Trish never took Sparda from Dante, why does the cutscene where Lady comes to hire him clearly show the sword hanging on the wall behind him and then disappearing along with Trish, replaced with the words "See you there"? And why in the cutscene where The Order is meeting at their round table does Sanctus himself say, and I quote, "She once brought us the sword 'Sparda' and hastened the completion of our Savior." He was referring to Gloria in saying that, and Gloria is Trish in disguise. The novel says that she brought Sparda, Pandora, Gilgamesh, and Lucifer to The Order so that they would let her into their ranks, and even though the game is very vague about it, it clearly implies the same.

Not only this, but if you pay close enough attention to the boss battles' cutscenes, you will notice that none of the boss demons of DMC4 ever give up their souls to Dante, which is how he obtains Devil Arms. Let us compare the Devil Arms of DMC4 with those of DMC3. In DMC3, Dante obtains four Devil Arms: Cerberus, Agni & Rudra, Nevan, and Beowulf. What do all of those have in common? Well, first of all, they are all named after the demons they came from. The ones in DMC4 are in no way named after the demons of the boss battles from which they came. Also, you can clearly see when Dante obtains the first three Devil Arms that they acknowledged their defeat and gave up their souls for him. With Beowulf, Vergil slayed the demon and acquired the gauntlets and greaves in the same fashion, and Dante just found them later. You never see that happening with the demons in DMC4. None of them acknowledge their defeat. Berial tries to attack Dante at the last minute and ends up dying because of it. Therefore, his soul wasn't absorbed.

Further more, in the end cutscene where Lady shows up to thank Dante and give him his pay (the one where he tried to hide behind his magazine), Lady says to Trish, when the blonde says she thinks she and Dante deserve more pay, "Isn't it your fault that things escalated to the level that they did? Bringing 'Sparda' into the spotlight?" If all of that doesn't make it anymore obvious that the Devil Arms obtained in DMC4 are not the souls of the bosses and were, in fact, simply used to summon them, I don't know what would.

Again, I mean no offense to you, but you should make sure you have contemplated and researched your own arguments before presenting them as the truth. It only takes a small misunderstanding to create a world of confusion, and considering that I wrote this as a gift to those who are not privileged enough to own the game, some readers may not have played it and could be easily confused by your incorrect information. I've dealt with your type before, and I just want to make it clear ahead of time that I won't stoop to your level and fight with you, so you're wasting your time. If you'll notice, you're the only one claiming my novelization makes no sense. Funny that you would assume the other DMC fans reading it are too stupid to know the difference. And just so you know, I delete reviews when I feel the reviewer is trying to start trouble, and I will continue to delete your reviews as long as I feel they are meant to be offensive. I've kept the first one on here because it was more of a legitimate critique, which I have no problem with.

**PeacefullyCrazy:** I have not actually read the novel that corresponds with the 4th game as I have not been able to locate an English version. I simply read a summary of the highlights online.

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><p>Nero sprinted urgently through the streets of Fortuna, dodging the menu boards of many a quaint bistro and the merchants' carts that sat abandoned along the roadside. The city was as silent as death, and he could hear the voice of the songstress Kyrie ringing throughout the empty streets over the music blaring from the headphones around his neck. Nero felt guilty as he hurried to the cathedral. He had promised her he would be there for her recital, but the church service was always so early. He had overslept; it had literally been minutes since he jolted upright after remembering where he was supposed to be. The knight had had no choice but to gather the dirty clothes that littered his floor from the night before and jerk them on hastily before bounding out the door.<p>

Nero knew the hymn Kyrie was singing all too well, and every few seconds he spent exerting all the energy he had to make it their in time was another verse gone. If he didn't hurry, the song would soon be over. What would Kyrie think of him? She would never say it, but Nero knew she would be disappointed, let down, hurt. Those were things he never wanted her to feel, especially at his own fault.

At that thought, the young man pushed himself harder. It felt as if his lungs would explode or his heart at the least, but he persevered all for the need to be there for Kyrie. As his luck would have it, however, something would appear to impede him. Coming upon a swarm of Scarecrows, Nero slowed to a brief halt to marvel at the sheer amount of demons. They filled the wide channel between the buildings lining Fortuna's streets and stretched on for what had to be an eighth of a mile. The entire group writhed and pulsated with the life inside their rag-doll exteriors, and the crackling of a millions of insects echoed throughout the silence. [1]

A biting feeling told Nero something wasn't right about this. He had never seen such a population of demons all packed together like a small army. It was common to see a few Scarecrows here and there, but Nero didn't think before that the number of Scarecrows he was seeing now even existed in Fortuna. It had always been such a calm and tranquil place. Though demons were just as impossible as rats to keep out of any city, Fortuna had always been a place of little demonic activity.

Nero seldom had time to ponder this, however. With the time he had taken to stand and stare dumbly at the swarm, more of Kyrie's golden voiced hymn had slipped into the maw of time. Her recital was nearing its midway point, and he still had quite a way to go before he reached the chapel.

_Dammit! _Nero barked inwardly, charging at the swarm of Scarecrows. In turn, one of the disgusting creatures leaped toward him, an arm raised to cut him. Scarecrows were peculiar creatures in that half of their appendages were the very blades with which they fought. Nero dodged the attack and kicked the offending demon back into the swarm. It collided with a few others unlucky enough to be wobbling behind it, and the clumsy creatures fell to the ground. Despite this, another Scarecrow had the audacity to come at him from the side. Nero may have had one arm in a sling, but that didn't disable him by far. Sending a powerful punch into the demon's squirming gut, Nero sent it flying backwards, knocking the Scarecrow behind it over as it went.

Nero's eyes flickered to a blade that came swinging toward him. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made the world in his eyes move in slow motion. Effortlessly, he grabbed the blade, swinging the Scarecrow attached to it around and into the hard stone side of a building. He jerked forcefully back on the weapon a split-second later and wrenched it free from the Scarecrow's body. The blade was an odd sight with its incredible curvature and the gear that separated the blade itself from the handle. It was rusty and shaped into that of a pendulum. Only the outer edge of the blade was sharpened, making it somewhat like a reversed scythe. It couldn't have made a better makeshift sword, in Nero's opinion.

As the swarm closed in on him, Nero evaded attack through an impressive display of defiance against gravity. He ran along the side of the building nearest him before leaping onto the head of a Scarecrow. Using the demons like stepping stones, Nero hopped from devil to devil until he found a free space to work with. Springing from the head of the final Scarecrow, Nero glided gracefully over the ground, his face near the bend of his elbow and he held the blade over his shoulder. Like a snake ready to strike, Nero let loose the energy built up in his bent left arm and slashed two Scarecrows that dared to block his path. Only one boot touched the ground before he was airborne once again, leaping high into the air. He brought the blade in a downward arc over his head and into a Scarecrow's flimsy exterior.

Swinging the blade sideways as it was still sheathed in the Scarecrow, Nero followed the momentum of the heavy blade and demon combined. He flipped around through the air in all sorts of directions, hitting Scarecrows with the blade to keep himself in the air. Another downward slice ended his acrobatic maneuvers, and the young knight continued his race to the cathedral. He mowed down the few Scarecrows remaining, the demons exploding in clouds of black and bursts of sickly yellow liquid all around him. Abandoning the no longer needed blade, Nero tosses it over his shoulder. Instead of proceeding on, despite that Kyrie's song is ending, Nero is forced to turn and quickly scope out his surroundings. Throughout his entire battle with the Scarecrows, the young man felt he was being watched. [2] Upon examining the empty environment around him, however, Nero could see no suspicious figures standing around or hiding behind a corner.

Wary, Nero arrived at the cathedral just after Kyrie had finished her hymn. Nero regretted to have missed the recital he promised he would attend, but the song had perhaps been even more beautiful when heard during the throes of battle. Looking out over the crowd as they clapped in praise, Kyrie's eyes shifted hopefully to the seat she had reserved for Nero. She gasped in surprise when she found the young knight seated in the previously empty section of the pew. Nero tittered with slight laughter and gave her one of those smiles that melted her heart. Nero delighted in the blush that flooded her cheeks as she smiled back.

Kyrie exited the stage and the applause gradually died down. The cathedral became silent as the stage-lights vacated the woman's former place to center on the old man standing behind the banisters of the podium above the altar. Nero sighed in sudden exhaustion. The very last thing he wanted to hear on such a hectic morning was that old fart's preaching. Alas, he had to wait for Kyrie to come sit by him before he could leave.

Beside Nero on the cushioned pew rested a blue box, wrapped up in a ribbon of the same color laced with gold. It was a gift he was nervously awaiting giving to Kyrie. The knight had worked overtime just to save up enough to buy her such a gift, and he feared that she would reject it. The scariest thing about their relationship—or any relationship, for that matter—was that Nero had no idea how Kyrie felt about him. They hadn't been together for very long, but Nero felt it had been long enough to present her with a thoughtful gift. He hoped with all his heart that he hadn't made the wrong decision.

"2,000 years ago... the Dark Knight, Sparda, turned against his demon brethren... and took up his sword for the sake of mankind."

Nero felt the throbbing of a headache coming on. Of all the men of The Order he disliked, Sanctus had to be the one he hated the most. The man had never done him wrong, but something about him exasperated Nero to no end. Every deliberate pause and emphasized word throughout his sermons increased Nero's gnawing urge to bash the man's head repeatedly into the wooden railing he preached behind.

"Though despite his brave efforts in our names," Nero let out a sigh of distaste, looking over his arm that laid along the backrest of the pew to see if Kyrie was coming. Unfortunately, she was nowhere in sight. "I fear some have forgotten the truth of that great sacrifice."

Nero turned his head boredly back to Sanctus only to notice Credo glancing at him from his line of knights along the right wall. Sanctus' words toward nonbelievers had warranted a stern look from the man. He knew that Nero his turned his back on religion years ago. Kyrie and Credo's parents were the ones who had taken Nero in and rescued him from the orphanage. They were the kindest people Nero had ever known, and their family was the young knight's world until they were both taken from him. Both died of what Nero deemed as mysterious causes, though The Order had tried to convince him that they were attacked by demons. He still had Kyrie and Credo, her older brother, who had become his adopted family, but he no longer believed the teachings of any church. In Nero's eyes, if their was a god, he couldn't have let the people most faithful and devoted to him suffer such a cruel fate.

Hearing the staccato clicking of footsteps coming down the aisle, Nero hoped it was Kyrie but didn't turn around. The cocksure knight refused to seem desperate.

"If the events of that terrible time were to reoccur, the fusing of both the demonic and human realms," in the midst if Sanctus' sermon, it was a refreshing sight to see Kyrie appear at the near end of the pew, "we, weak humans, would have no means by which to oppose our submission."

Nero could slay demons and backtalk all his authority figures on a daily basis, but the young man was still too shy to direct Kyrie's attention to the gift he had bought her. Nero blocked the songstress off by pressing his left headphone to the corresponding ear. Kyrie grunted as if shocked and offended that Nero would block her out like that, and the nervous weight in the knight's stomach coiled up even tighter. He expected her to say something about it, but the blue of the box must have caught her eye before she could utter a word. Knowing the gift was for her, Kyrie clutched the small box to her bosom as she took the seat beside Nero.

"And so I ask you to unite! And pray that even if such a dark time of chaos were to revisit us, our gracious Savior would shelter us from the storm."

Nero watched as Sanctus' lifted his arms up above his head. He had seen the man do this so many times before that he no longer even had to think about what was coming next.

"Let us pray!"

Sanctus clasped his left palm over his right fist as he brought them down below his chin. Everyone in the cathedral proceeded to do the same, all the heads in the room suddenly bowing except for his own, which stuck out like only a head of snow white hair could. The most dreadfully boring organ music began to echo throughout the cavernous inner sanctum of the cathedral. Sometime throughout the sermon, Nero had adorned his entire headset rather than holding only one side to his ear. Even the loud blaring of guitars and drums damaging his ears couldn't block out the sound.

_Look at this shit! _Nero scoffed incredulously. A quick glance around showed that no one was watching—how could they with their noses shoved to their hands, mumbling prayers that would never be answered? With a relieved sigh, Nero pulled the headphones off his head and stood from his seat. Kyrie, of course, noticed.

"Nero... what's wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice deliberately low. Nero wished she would just forget him when she prayed and enjoy this while she had the time. She was so determined that she could somehow convert Nero back to believing the teachings of the church. It both annoyed and endeared Nero. While it did mean that she cared enough for him to worry about things as trivial as his afterlife, it also meant she wanted to change him. Little did Kyrie know, Nero was much more than a man who had simply forsaken God, and if she ever found out what he really was, there would be a lot more about him she would want to change.

Kyrie looked pleadingly into Nero's deep blues, the chocolate brown of her eyes burning into his soul. She wanted so badly for him to share this with her; he could see that much in her eyes. Nero stared back at her for a few painful beats of his heart, briefly considering staying, but he knew deep down it was best he never got involved in this aspect of life. Credo had once said to be hot or cold in the face of God, but never lukewarm, and Nero didn't think it wise to commit an ounce to this if he would never commit all of himself.

"I'm outta here." Nero said softly, moving to leave.

"But it's not over yet..." Kyrie whined, pinning him for a moment like a butterfly to a cork-board. Just as the pinned wings of a beautiful butterfly, he was forced to shatter his ever willing image. He had to put himself for her for her sake, as complicated as that sounded even to himself.

"All this preaching's putting me to sleep!" Nero whined back at her, his tone apologetic. He made to leave the cathedral, and as expected, Kyrie gave that trademark gasp before rushing after to stop him. Nero was just sighing, thinking to himself that this would inevitably become an argument when his Devil Bringer, his demonic arm, began to pulse within its sling.

"Huh?" Nero gasped in surprise, looking down to his hidden arm. It was pulsing so brightly that the blue glow could be seen through the sling. Briefly, he hoped no one would notice, but that was the least of his worries. The sensation coursing through his right arm was one he had never before felt. It was akin to the tingling, fiery sensation he felt when lesser demons were nearby but far stronger. The burning sensation felt like liquid fire pumping in his veins. It flared up his arm and went as far as to swim around in his heart. He actually winced as it was slightly painful.

A particularly strong pulse commanded Nero's instincts to point him in the direction of the source. Kyrie whipped around with him, giving a startled gasp at his sudden movement. While the songstress' oblivious eyes darted around aimlessly, Nero's were drawn to the glass dome above a still-praying Sanctus for a reason that he couldn't yet discern.

An explanation wasn't long coming, however. The skylight soon burst with a loud crash. Amongst shards of glass sparkling in the light as they fell to the marble floors like rain was a large splotch of red. Another split-second gave Nero's eyes time to focus. What he them realized was that the splotch of sanguine was a man in a long red trench coat. The leather coattails fluttered after him as he fell. As if he had mapped out the entirety of the inner sanctum and planned to do so, the man landed with adept grace on the thick wooden banister that formed a half circle around the edge of the podium with a thud.

What ensued was a dramatic but brief staring contest between the strange man and Sanctus. The man lifted his head and looked straight at Sanctus. For a moment, Nero felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. His overly pointed, white beard followed his head as it tilted up. His equally pasty white eyebrows wrinkled his forehead as they lifted, and he stared, dumbfounded, at the man, failing to see the silvery gun he drew. Within a second's time, the man pointed the gun in Sanctus' face and blew a hole straight through his forehead beneath that ridiculously tall hat he wore as a sign that he was head of the church. The sound of the gunshot echoed throughout the cavernous sanctuary, overshadowing the pipe organ. Bowed heads began to raise with the sound, and everyone gaped in shock as Sanctus' body stood for a moment longer before gravity dragged his deadweight down to the floor, the pure white of his clothes stained with his own blood.

Slowly, the assassin stood from his crouch on the banisters and turned toward the filled pews as if about to bow for his audience. His face painted sanguine, the man squinted his frosty blues, scoping out the room around him as if he were some unearthly punisher that could see people's sin with his naked eyes. Hysteria broke out amongst the churchgoers, and a crowd of screaming Fortunians was suddenly packed in at the exit, desperately trying to squeeze through lest the assassin snip the gossamer thread that kept them anchored to the living world.

"Your Holiness!" Credo barked in utter shock. With trained speed, the brunette withdrew his sword from his hip. The Holy Knights lined up alongside him followed suit in a domino effect to the end of the line. Nero couldn't help but stand and gape at the assassin. He looked so human, yet the source of Nero's arm throbbing was most definitely the Man in Red. Nero had always thought the church people were crazy when they talked of wolves in sheep's clothing, but perhaps there was some truth to their paranoid mutterings.

As the knights charged on the assassin, he withdrew a mighty sword from his back. A sword that heavy was assuredly a two-handed weapon. It was dual-edged and gleamed silver in the sunlight, looking as if it had just been sharpened and polished. The rather phallic blade disappeared in the ribcage of a rather devilish looking skeleton, spikes jutting out of its head. Its mouth was wide open and Nero thought for a second that he actually saw its eyes glow red.

As a knight charged at the man, he sprung from the banisters and delivered a powerful kick to the knight's gut, sending him flying backwards. Another knight brought his sword toward the assassin. He parried it effortlessly before performing a second parry on the knight that tried to attack from behind. Once he had stopped the knight's sword, the man lifted his right leg and kicked backwards like a horse might, knocking the knight into the wall with a pained cry. The next knight that came at the assassin was stomped to the ground by a boot to the chest and held down as the man drove a sword through the poor knight's chest. He made a choking, gurgling sound before falling silent amongst the clashing of swords.

Nero berated himself for becoming mesmerized by such a macabre display. He should be up there on that altar helping his fellow knights, he knew, but Kyrie was his first priority. Kyrie had been holding his hand, but he used the attachment to force her behind him before untwining their fingers. The harsh movement caused her to drop the gift box he had left for her, and she only noticed it after she had already begun to run away. The songstress whirled around urgently to see a fleeing man crush the box under his foot. Nero cursed the whole situation before stopping her with his arm. Sadly, there were things far more significant than the gift, no matter how much he had spent on it. Nero urged Kyrie toward the exit while Credo rushed to where Sanctus had fallen.

"No!" Nero heard his older sibling yell. He let his white-gloved hands hover over Sanctus' fallen form as if afraid to harm him further by touching him. It was a pitiful sight. No matter how much Nero hated Sanctus, Credo had adored the older man. He was everything Credo aspired to be, the reason he joined The Order, and the reason he was the captain of the Holy Knights today. Nero wished he could stop by Credo's side to say something, anything in consolation. Even a comforting squeeze of his shoulder would have been better than running off to leave the man like that, but in such a dangerous situation, Nero had no choice.

Meanwhile, the assassin was cutting through knights as if they were made of butter. He ran his sword through the gut of a knight and swung the sword over his head down onto another knight. With the impaled man on the end of his sword, the assassin used him cruelly as a sort of makeshift sledgehammer, bashing the knight in front of him down. He swung his sword in a backwards arc and did the same to a knight behind him before swinging it around like a deadly baseball bat, bludgeoning two more knights down before slinging the still-living man on his sword into the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral. He parried the remaining knights that dared to attempt an attack and skewered another on his sword. In a show of much more compassion than he had utilized with the man he threw into the ceiling, the assassin slid his sword back through the hole he had made in the knight and let him fall to bleed out on the ground.

With his sword propped on his shoulder, the assassin casually walked around the stage as if searching for more men to murder. Unfortunately, he came upon Credo still crouched by Sanctus' side. With his target found, the man proceeded toward an unaware Credo. Just as Nero was about to pull Kyrie out the exit, the woman turned to see the assassin advancing on her older brother like a crouching tiger stalking an oblivious deer.

"Credo!" Kyrie cried in abject horror, her own life forgotten as she rushed toward her brother.

"Kyrie!" Nero yelled in a deep, stern tone as if to command her back to his side. The very last living knight charged toward the assassin in what Nero deemed a suicidal attempt to protect Credo. The man mowed him down and sent his body rolling backwards across the ground. Unfortunately, his body ended up in Kyrie's path. She tripped over the fallen knight as he skidded by. She fell onto her hip, catching her upper body with both palms braced on the cold floor. She slowly lifted herself with trembling arms, looking up to find the assassin staring straight down at her. He only looked at the whimpering woman for a moment, then lifted his head as if to dismiss her as unworthy of the effort.

Even if he was making no move to harm Kyrie, however, Nero didn't want him anywhere near her. Uttering a roar of a battle cry, the young knight sprinted forward. Once he had gained enough speed, Nero leapt into the air, propelling himself forward with both legs stretched straight. Both his boots collided with the assassin's face, sending him flying backwards. In a last minute maneuver, Nero skidded to a stop on the floor in the kneeling position a man might use when proposing to his lover. Nero whipped his revolver, Blue Rose out of the holster on his left hip. Somehow the assassin had become airborne above the massive statue of Fortuna's Savior, the demon Sparda, behind the podium. Nero pulled the trigger, two bullets zooming from the double-barreled revolver toward the assassin. The man had reflexes sharper than a cat's, for he cut the bullets out of the air with his sword before landing on the Sparda statue's head.

Kicking himself off of the pillars that stood at each end of the podium's banisters, Nero sprung into the air above the man. He was in position to send another kick to the assassin's face, but the man quickly knocked him to the side with his sword. Nero used the momentum to land on Sparda's arms that were bent and held at collar level so that he could hold his own sword parallel with the midline of his body. The assassin had done the same, leaving his sword stabbed into the statue's forehead. They drew their guns on each other, Nero with his revolver and the assassin with his two pistols, one black and one silver.

"Nero!" Kyrie called in worry for him. The assassin was kind enough to pause long enough for Nero to call back to her.

"Kyrie! Go with your brother and get outta here!"

"I will return with help!" Credo yelled as he moved his sister toward the exit. "You stall him until then!" With the final remnants of church goers fleeing out the exit, Credo and Kyrie disappeared.

"I won't hold my breath." Nero scoffed once Credo was out of earshot. He wouldn't trust one of those knights with his life. If there was anyone they could choose to leave for dead, it would be Nero.

A jerk of his head sent the headphones falling from Nero's neck. He wasted no time in firing at the assassin. Though the man should have been caught off-guard, he leapt from the statue's arm, flying into the air like some sort of bird of prey, his arms stretched straight out to his sides and one knee bent into a sharp curve. Nero followed after him with another battle cry, performing yet more of those acrobatic maneuvers for which he was known.

Legs splayed wide, Nero soared toward the man until he could wrap his legs around the assassin's waist, trapping him in harm's way. The barrel of a black gun was soon pointing in his face, but Nero moved his head out of the way while simultaneously pushing the gun away from him. The sound of the gunshot so close to his sensitive ear left it ringing and a feeling of vertigo swimming around in his head. He had no choice but to push past it as another gun was being swung around to shoot him. At the last minute, Nero managed to catch the silver barrel in his mouth, feeling the hot metal burn on his tongue as it fired. Nero retaliated by firing at the assassin again.

Unsurprisingly, the man dodged Nero's bullets, and the two flipped around each other for a moment before the man landed on his sword that remained lodged in the statue. It made a decent platform for the assassin to perch upon, the man crouched upon the flat broadsword. Nero attempted to kick him again, but the assassin leaped out of the way, dislodging his sword in the process. Nero free-fell for a moment before finding his footing between the statue's torso and sword. He quickly looked up to find the man coming at him with his broadsword. In a last minute save, Nero stopped the sword from cleaving him in half with the barrel of Blue Rose, the force causing his boots to loose traction. He fell between the sword and the statue, rolling and bouncing off of the hard stone as he went. Nero bent one knee while stretching the other straight, his boots causing him to slide to a stop between sword and statue.

The assassin landed on Sparda's hands wrapped around the handle of his sword. Nero braced his back against Sparda and pressed both worn soles of his boots flat against the sword. With a gravelly cry of exertion, he broke the massive sword free, hands and all. As it slowly tipped over and fell to the floor, Nero ran up the flat of the falling sword toward the assassin, who was staring cockily at him from his place at the end of the sword. Nero again attempted to shoot the man, but he dodged out of the way, swerving behind Nero. Not missing a beat, Nero whirled toward him and they both leapt into the air again, putting space between themselves by kicking off each other's booted feet. The sword they had rode upon clattering to the ground and proceeded to roll several yards with its own weight. Like a feline, Nero landed on his feet off to the side and aimed his gun at the assassin. The man simply walked around again as if out for a Sunday sightseeing stroll, the flat of his sword propped on his shoulder. He turned slowly toward Nero and the young man bared his teeth.

"You got a jacked up notion of fair play, pal," Nero spat with a sideways jerk of his head, "and it's beginning to piss me off."

Utilizing the only real weapon he had, Nero began firing at the assassin as best he could. Having only enough capacity for six shots before needing to reload, Nero tried his best to get at least a single hit on the man. He wasted five shots that the Man in Red stopped with his own bullets before leaping out of the way of his rapid-fire. With two semi-automatic pistols and deadly accurate marksmanship, the assassin was too dangerous a force to go up against with Nero's, sadly, inadequate revolver. Luckily, Nero could see a stray sword stabbed into the altar from his position behind the banisters he was using for cover. If he could dodge the assassin's bullets long enough to retrieve the weapon, he would be in the clear.

Positioning himself on the open side of one pillar, Nero sprinted forward at the first opportunity. The assassin fired at him once again as he reemerged from his hiding place, and Nero side-rolled out of his line of fire. Just as quickly, the young knight stood to his full height again, firing his last shot at the assassin before reloading. With a flick of his wrist, Nero opened the cylinder of his revolver, the spent cartridges sliding out of their chambers and clinking on the floor. Simultaneously as he whirled around to locate the vanishing man, Nero tossed a clip of six fresh rounds from his pocket, swinging Blue Rose around so that the rounds slid into their chambers. The momentum of the young knight finally halting caused the cylinder to close itself. With fresh rounds in his gun, Nero aimed for where he thought the man would be, but he was out of Nero's sight.

Keeping Blue Rose raised and ready to fire, Nero's eyes darted around for his opponent before he heard the clicking of boots on the floor. Once again, the man had his sword propped on his shoulder, staring up at the Sparda statue and leaving his back to Nero as if the young man wasn't a threat.

"I guess this doesn't quite cut it." Nero remarked, spinning Blue Rose around in his hand until her barrel was pointed downwards. Nero reholstered her before kicking the sword out of the floor with his heel. It flipped around for a moment before Nero snatched it out of the air and placed the tip against the floor with a metallic clink. As with all of The Order's sword, it contained a fuel injection system that allowed the blade to pour fuel into the ruts in its surface and ignite it with the crank of a handle much like that of a motorcycle. Nero revved the sword twice, the engine roaring to life with a few spits of flame. This seemed of little interest to the assassin, however, as he remained turned away.

_What a cocky bastard! _Nero growled inwardly. _He acts like I'm just some fly buzzing around, not worth paying any damn attention to._

"What's the point of packin' a sword like that if you aren't even gonna use it?" Nero barked irately at the man. He had turned to Nero somewhere around the beginning of the knight's sentence. As if he had just noticed his own sword, the man pointed it toward the ceiling, twisting it around in his hand as if inspecting it for the first time. He then jammed its tip into the ground, twisting his hand on the hilt in a mockery of Nero's own actions. This served only to piss Nero off more, and the young man charged forward with a guttural cry.

Of all the things Nero was known for, patience was not one of them. He began slashing away at the assassin, and the skilled swordsman parried his every attack. With more effort than he was accustomed to, Nero also blocked the man's attempts at ending him. The sound of clashing swords reverberated throughout the domal chamber, metal colliding against metal. The handle of the sword began to feel warm in Nero's hands with the friction. He pushed beyond what he had always thought were his limits to incapacitate his opponent in some way so that he could end his life and this battle. Nero had never before tired of battle so quickly. Normally, a swordsman of great caliber would be Nero's ideal opponent, but the cocksure young knight seldom could get even a single hit on this man.

Nero bared his teeth in frustration, a growl rumbling from his gut. The other man seemed completely unfazed. To fuel Nero's fire, he simply smirked as their blades being locked together gave them a close moment to scrutinize one another. Nero felt fury boiling within him. He wanted to cut this bastard for many reasons—all the destruction and death he had caused, how frightened he had made Kyrie and all the things he forced her to see—but above all, he just wanted to slice that cocky smirk off his face. Nero was never bested by anyone, and he would be damned if this man was going to get the better of him.

Without even thinking, Nero flew into a flurry of random, under-calculated attacks. It was a dangerous idea for him to simply act without thinking, but it soon proved all his concentration had been rather fruitless. Though he wasn't even trying, Nero managed to get the upper hand. With an uppercut, he sent the assassin flying a few feet into the air. The man hit the wall with a grunt. He was just as quickly back on his feet, however, and Nero speculated whether he had done much damage. He could see no signs of a puncture wound on the man, so perhaps he had simply succeeded in throwing him into a wall. Nero was satisfied with that victory for the time being, however, for the man was no longer smirking.

Unfortunately, however, the Man in Red was quick to retaliate, and Nero soon knew how foolish he had been to think he would have the advantage for long. The assassin came at him with the same rapid sequence of slashes Nero himself had used. The difference, however, was that this man seemed to calculate every move within a split-second as if he had all the time in the world, and he injected an intensity into his attacks that Nero had failed to utilize. Nero was frantically blocking attacks, grunting with the exertion of having to maneuver his sword so quickly. Just as Nero had before, the man attempted to bring his sword into an upward arc and cleave the young knight in half, bottom to top. Nero leapt out of the way in the nick of time, holding his sword up to block yet another attack. The force of the blow sent him skidding back in a crouch, his boots stirring dust into the air he wouldn't even imagine was there.

Nero didn't have long to speculate its origins, however. The man was definitely determined to kill him, for he wasted no time in executing another attack. Nero again blocked him, but the worst case scenario happened, according to his luck. Nero gaped in momentary horror as his weapon was wrenched from his hand and went spinning through the air, landing several yards away. The assassin bent his arm back, aiming it straight for Nero's chest. The young knight's brain was working frantically to discover some sort of improvisation to prevent him from being skewered. Time slowed to the consistency of molasses, and the only solution Nero's mind could conjure up was to utilize his Devil Bringer.

Unknowing of whether or not his plan would fail, Nero took the ultimate risk. He held his arm, still in its sling, up in front of his face, closing his eyes instinctively and hoping that he would still be alive in the next few moments. It was so strange to have a part of him he knew almost nothing about. Not much time had passed since Nero's right arm underwent its painful metamorphosis into into its devilish state. Rarely finding time to escape prying eyes, Nero hadn't had much of an opportunity to experiment with the demonic appendage, discover what it was capable of. Even as he used it as a shield, there was a 50/50 chance that the arm was invincible. With his life on the line, Nero didn't like those odds, but he didn't much of a choice. Fate had left him to sink or swim.

Nero braced himself for impact, as the sword was but half a foot from making violent contact. He wasn't aware that his heart from attempting to break his ribs with its frantic beating or that his breathing had sped up to unnaturally dangerous levels. The only thing in the universe that mattered was the razor-sharp tip of the assassin's blade as it collided with the ruddy red and royal blue armor of his Devil Bringer. Nero wasn't sure what he was expecting. With the probability of him keeping or losing his life, there weren't many options to anticipate. Either a sword would pierce the junction between his sternum and clavicle and flood his lungs with blood, or luck would smile upon him and the blade would be halted by his mysterious demonic arm.

As luck would have it, the world returned to normal, and Nero was still breathing clean, dry air rather than drowning in his own life essence. It seemed an explosion had taken place in the cathedral, however, for his snowdrift of hair and the coattails of his dark denim trench coat fluttered in a sudden wind. Nero looked up at the last minute to see pews falling out of the air with loud thuds and blue tendrils of something—energy?—whipping about like snakes from the glowing flesh of his arm. Nero was in awe that the arm had been able to stop the attack, especially with the wide glowing cracks in the seemingly stronger armored scales. He had given many a tentative touch to the glowing rivulets. They were soft—softer than human flesh even—yet they had managed to stop the assassin's broadsword.

"Hm... You got a trick up your sleeve," remarked the assassin in a mockery of surprise. Nero marveled for a brief respite at the crackling of what looked like lightening around his arm before replying.

"I thought the cat had your tongue." The men shared an intense moment of challenging stares, the assassin, surprisingly, not moving to attack again just yet. Nero used the window of, perhaps, surprise to his advantage.

"But if it's a trick your lookin' for... try this!" With that, Nero threw the man, sword and all, away from him with a fling of his arm that felt so delightfully effortless. The man soared away from him with the brute force but managed to regain his footing, skidding to a halt before he collided with the high wrought iron fence surrounding the statue against the wall. Nero heard the man utter a laugh, before speaking.

"Looks like you too are a—" he started, but Nero refused to give him time to finish. Nothing was worse than being interrupted in mid-sentence. Nero had reached for the Sparda statue's fallen sword to see if he could throw it at the man. He was surprised to see not his actual arm but a ghostly mirror image reaching for the sword. It was far larger than Nero's arm or even Nero himself and hovered above his Devil Bringer. It was incredibly odd, but Nero wasn't about to ask questions. Instead, he threw the massive sword like a javelin, sending it zooming through the air toward the assassin. Unfortunately, he stood there with the utmost confidence and simply tilted his head back to dodge the attack. The sword went straight past him, less than a foot from his face, and destroyed the fence to his side, doing further damage to the already wrecked statue within.

The assassin stared at the broken section of fence for a moment as if imagining what his brain matter would look like oozing out of his head had he not moved back in time. The man propped his sword on his shoulder and turned slowly back around to the young knight. Nero flexed his demonic arm, holding the amber and blue glowing appendage up in a show of aggression.

"Hate to interrupt, but I wanna wrap this show up before the cavalry arrives." Nero dusted his palms together casually as if to say the assassin's defeat would come effortlessly. With the new found power contained in his arm, Nero didn't think it all that cocky to believe that. Whipping out Blue Rose, Nero aimed for vital parts of the assassin's body. He deflected the bullets with his sword, but that gave Nero time to get close to him. The knight hastily drew his armored fist back for a punch. The assassin lifted the flat of his sword in front of his face in an effort to impede and weaken the blow, but Nero's strength was unhindered by his defenses and turned the man's block against him. The sword smacked him in the face in what Nero thought a comical display, and he slammed into the fence behind him. Nero let no time escape him, fisting the leather of the man's black vest and lifting him off his feet before slamming him onto the harsh stone floor. The man let out a rattly groan as air escaped him, and Nero repeated the action, bouncing him like a ball against the floor.

A black boot collided roughly with Nero's stomach, and he reluctantly released the man in favor of doubling over in pain. He would only do this for a moment, for his eyes spotted the sword he had lost across the room. Nero dashed toward the edge of the stage in an attempt to retrieve the sword. The assassin was hot on his tail for vengeance, however. Nero heard the whistling of a blade cutting the air, but this time, he was ready to block the blows with his hand. In fact, he caught the blade in his palm as if catching something as harmless as a frisbee.

Whereas the man's face had remained relatively emotionless, his eyes widened with surprise at having his attack stopped so easily. Nero turned his back with the blade in hand over his shoulder and pitched it like one might a baseball. The assassin went flying with the sword, flipping around in the air in time to land on a pew. The pew tipped onto the backs of its legs and slid toward the others, the benches quickly piling up. When the pew finally stopped, the assassin fell back forward with it, his ankle propped on the opposite knee. The man draped his left arm over the ankle and left his sword stabbed into the ground in his right hand as he hunched forward.

Nero actually smirked and uttered a grunt of humor in the man's direction, disbelieving he could have landed so perfectly after such a powerful throw. Nero hated that he was panting with exertion while the Man in Red wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"So, you lookin' to play, huh?" the man said cockily, glancing to his left before continuing. "Alright," he started in a voice Nero compared to smoke, warm and smooth, leaning back against the backrest of the pew, "I guess I got some time to kill." The man lifted his sword up once again as if inspecting it, and Nero was starting to think he was simply checking out his own reflection.

_Cocky bastard._

"Heh, tough guy, huh?" Nero said, turning away to finally retrieve the sword from the floor. He propped it over one shoulder and onto the other, nodding his head a few times before growling, "Well..."

Nero uttered a cry, kicking a stray pew next to him toward the man. The assassin leaped out of the way, and the end of the pew collided with the exact spot where he had been sitting. No matter—Nero had sprung into the air with him. Soaring toward each other, both men slashed at each other with their swords and only succeeded in blocking both their attacks. The assassin landed on his feet on the opposite end of the room, and Nero fell onto a pew that was precariously balancing atop the end of another. The man turned to him with a smirk. Their battle had become playtime, but unlike children, both were out for blood. They had only made a fun spectacle of it.

"I think I'll have to take you down a couple notches!" Nero said, and he couldn't have denied that his tone was playful if challenged to. The smirking Man in Red took a couple of steps toward him, sword on his shoulder again. He held his free hand up in a light shrug and replied.

"Whatever you say, kid."

"Hmph..." Nero grunted, wiping the corner of his mouth with his scaled fist. This guy wasn't taking him seriously; he would have to fix that. Leaping off the pew, Nero came straight down on the assassin with his sword. It came as no surprise to Nero that the man blocked his attack, but it gave him an opening to sock the man in the gut. They were close enough for Nero to feel the other's breath on his face. In some macabre form of an insult, the assassin spit blood in his face before pulling his sword free with a metallic grinding and a few stray sparks. He swung his sword around in an attempt to separate Nero's head from his body, and the young knight side-rolled out of the way. Just as quickly, the blade was coming in a downward arc for him, and Nero leapt backwards before thrusting his sword toward the assassin's heart.

Holding the flat of the blade with his palm, the assassin used the sword like a plank of wood, quickly redirecting Nero's stab over his head. Nero pulled his sword back and brought the blade around in an effort to slice the man in half like a loaf of bread. He leapt backwards, the tip of Nero's blade barely missing him, and smacked Nero to the ground with the flat of his sword. The knight landed flat on his back in time to notice the sword coming down on his neck like an axe. At the very last moment, Nero grabbed the the sword and threw the assassin over him. Nero splayed both legs into the air, throwing his weight around and sliding on the floor before flipping back onto his feet.

"Come at me," Nero growled, making a "bring it" motion with his hand. The man charged at him with his sword pulled back for a blow. What ensued was a brief bout of parrying attacks. When Nero pulled his arm back for a punch, the assassin made the repeated mistake of holding his sword up to block it. The blade was held horizontally in front of his face. Nero simply roared his battle cry, pressing his fist against the flat of the sword with a moderate amount of force. He wasn't done, however. The man was strong, but Nero pushed against him until he overpowered him. It was almost as if it wasn't Nero's hand but power bursting forth from it that sent the Man in Red soaring backward.

Nero ran forward in a millisecond, stopping the man in midair by grabbing his ankle. The man made to move his free hand in front of his face for some pitiful form of protection, but Nero's fist made contact with his face before he had the chance. The knight punched the man into the floor hard enough to crack the tile beneath him. Amazingly, the assassin's sword flew into the air with the force. Nero stood over him until he had to straddle the man to keep his footing against his own strength, punching the man repeatedly in the face. He had the power in his single arm to pulverize the man's skull into a bloody mass, but he deliberately kept him alive. He had other plans.

As Nero socked him in the face, he felt some sort of odd energy radiating off the man. Red crackled around him like lightening, similar to what Nero had seen crackling about his own arm. Whatever was happening, it didn't affect the knight. He continued punching the seemingly unconscious man in the face even as he thought he saw the assassin's limp hand lying on the floor grow claws. Then, he stood, sweeping the man out from between his legs by the lapels of his vest. Nero threw the man forcefully across the room. He slammed back-first into the broken torso of the Sparda statue, bouncing off its surface. Before he could fall back to the floor, Nero retrieved the man's own sword from the floor next to him and threw it like a dart, piercing the man through the chest and into the statue behind him so that he was pinned to its surface.

Panting, Nero grunted in relief as he watched the man. For a moment, it was as if he had been nailed to a crucifix as his arms remained stretched out to the sides for a few beats. His entire body then went limp, arms falling and his chin meeting his chest with a final rattle of breath leaving his lungs. Nero turned and started to walk away, almost not believing what he had just done. He had killed a man or what he thought was a man. In all honesty, the situation was so hectic, Nero wasn't sure about anything at the moment.

However, one thing he was sure of was that his battle with the Man in Red had ended. He had seriously underestimated his opponent.

"Getting better..." Nero whirled back around with a gasp, his eyes immediately going to the assassin impaled on the statue. He was again moving and breathing, and Nero watched almost in nausea as he braced his palms against the statue's stone surface and began to push himself off.

"I would even go as far as to say I underestimated your," said the man in a voice rough with pain, pausing as he finished removing the blade of his sword—and himself—from the statue, grunting in agony all the way. Just as he freed himself, the assassin finished his sentence with "abilities" before he fell to the ground, landing on his feet, which was an impressive feat for a man that should very well be thoroughly dead.

"You aren't human, are you?" Nero asked. It had to be the stupidest question ever asked in the history of stupid questions. To ask a man standing there with the end of a broadsword jutting out of his back whether or not he was human was like asking a walking, talking lizard with horns and the eyes of Lucifer himself if it was a demon. It was the only coherent statement Nero's brain could form, however.

The man sighed, dropped his head to the sword in his chest, and replied, "We're the same..." He braced his hands on the flat of the sword. "You and," Nero watched as the assassin pulled the sword from his own chest with an extended hum of the letter "N" before finishing with, "I..." Nero didn't move to attack him again; for some reason, it didn't feel fair. The stood just stood and stared at each other for a moment, the assassin panting to regain his breath. A few silent moments passed before the man turned his head to the left and gestured to something with his head.

"And them," he said. Nero looked over to see a body in knight's clothing. What was in it, however, looked nothing like a knight.

"Huh?" Nero grunted in shock, taking a few steps toward the deceased creature. It's skin looked like brimstone and its every orifice glowed amber. The teeth in its slack jaw were sharpened, not dull like a human's.

"Though I suspect you carry something different from the others..." Nero whipped his head upward to find the assassin sitting on the edge of what used to be the skylight before he busted a huge hole in it. One knee was propped up, his right arm resting upon it while his left leg hung casually over the edge.

"What are you talkin' about?" Nero demanded, pointing a claw-tipped digit at the man before letting his arm drop back to his side.

"You will come to learn the meaning soon enough... But," said the assassin, coming to a stand on the edge of the gaping hole, "business beckons." The man turned away, walking out of sight, and Nero was simply baffled that he could just leave after saying something so cryptic.

"Hey!" Nero yelled after him, running forward a few steps and blasting a shot toward the man's former position.

The man popped back into view to give Nero a two-fingered salute and enthusiastically say, "Adios, kid!" He disappeared again as quickly as he came, his crimson coattails flying behind him before they too disappeared. Nero dropped his gun, giving a backward glance as he heard footsteps. About a dozen knights came flooding into the cathedral, all looking around for the Man in Red and quickly realizing he was gone. Nero scoffed briefly at their timing before turning back around, staring at the ceiling where the man had exited as he hugged his Devil Bringer against his body in an attempt to hide it.

_What could he really know?_

* * *

><p><strong>1.<strong> I actually missed this the first time I played the game (because I was playing on a very crappy, old TV), but in the second Scarecrow cutscene, where Nero walks into that room with all the shelves and there are empty Scarecrows lying on the ground, bugs crawl out of the grates on the floor and fill the Scarecrows up.

**2.** If you pay attention during the opening cutscene, you will see a silhouette of Dante standing on a roof, looking at the cathedral where Nero was headed.

(_These were the only things I thought needed to be noted. If you have any other questions, just ask._)


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